"No wonder her mother's dead. Saddle any parent with a daughter that ungrateful, and who'd live long?"
Their words were vicious.
They didn't touch me.
I ignored every single one of them, fixed my gaze on Elmer, and spoke slowly, deliberately—one word at a time.
"Elmer, are you sure you want to take this all the way?"
He stared down at me, cold and imperious. "Margaret, you brought this on yourself."
"Your mother died because she was shameless—always looking for a handout, always cutting corners."
"You had no right to stand here at my mother's banquet and curse her, again and again."
"If you ask me, your mother deserved an early grave for raising a daughter who doesn't know gratitude or respect."
The words had barely left his mouth.
My mother walked through the front door of the villa. She looked at Elmer, genuinely puzzled.
"Who died?"
